The Sacrifice
by lauradep
Summary: Narcissa Malfoy makes a choice that could have fatal consequences.  But when it comes to Draco, she is willing to risk anything.


"You," commanded the voice of the Dark Lord. An abrupt flick of his wand caused a loud bang to echo through the Forbidden Forest. Narcissa Malfoy shrieked in surprise, quickly silencing as she realized that Voldemort's gaze was upon her. "Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead."

Narcissa peered down at the apparently lifeless body of Harry Potter. Nobody in the small clearing of the forest was breathing for some absurd fear that he was invincible. It was absurd after all that a seventeen year old boy with mediocre talents could defy the Dark Lord so consistently. At least, that was the general consensus among the Death Eaters. Narcissa had her suspicions about the powers that lay behind the boy. She knew from first-hand experience that the survival of any given seventeen year old boy was not determined by his actions alone. Potter had help from every god-forsaken muggle-lover he met, but the true source of his invincibility was a woman.

When Narcissa had heard the story of Lily Potter, she had not laughed or sneered like all the others. She remembered the moment vividly. It was summertime and her home was dressed to perfection for a dinner party some seven years ago. Draco had just finished his first year at Hogwarts and Lucius was celebrating a recent business success. The memory recalled the former glory of the Manor, when she had made sure that every drape was Slytherin emerald and that every surface bore boasts of her family's power and purity. Every face around their long, mahogany table was the face of a former Death Eater. They listened with humor as Lucius recounted the night of the Dark Lord's fall from Dumbledore's point of view.

"Apparently, Dumbledore believes that the mudblood mother's sacrifice had created some kind of magical protection for the boy, as if her feeble powers could rival that of the Dark Lord's," Lucius drawled sarcastically, earning uproarious laughter from the half-drunken crowd. Alecto Carrow was to her right, snorting into her wine goblet. Narcissa had only tightened the grip on her fork and glanced down the table at the tiny blonde head of her son. She had never before felt such kinship to so inferior a woman.

Now here she kneeled before that very same woman's son. He was the source of her every woe. It half-disgusted her to know he was still breathing. She could not count the reasons that caused her to hope fervently that he was dead. He associated with mudbloods, werewolves, and blood traitors. He had sneakily taken her servant from her, pathetic and unsightly as Dobby had been. Every failure on Lucius's part could be owed to his meddling, and Draco – her sweet child – could be lying dead, possibly by Potter's own hand! And yet there it was, the thump thump thump of his heartbeat. The story must be true. It was miraculous that he lived. Harry Potter, the boy who lived.

She knew at that moment that Voldemort would fail.

"Is Draco alive?" she whispered, desperately quiet. "Is he in the castle?"

It was time to make a decision that might mean death. For the sake of her family she would do what her husband was not capable of. She would defy the Dark Lord, that dark alien that invaded her home, ruined her hardwood floors, and stripped her Lucius of his very manhood.

"Yes," the boy replied.

"He is dead!" she shouted, and just as before she felt no remorse. When she had rushed to Spinner's End, Bellatrix had been shaking with fear, with anger that Narcissa even dared think to deceive Voldemort. Why, if it was anyone but Cissy, Bella would have gladly informed her master on the betrayal. Narcissa on the other hand could only shake with tears. Remorse was not a factor. Her son was alive because of that decision, a thought that gave her the strength to make this one.

As the cheers broke out among the crowd of masked Death Eaters, she was taken back to that night at Spinner's End. Once again she felt that numb desperation and the silent torture. She had sat in Snape's ugly room, trembling and tearful, listening to Bellatrix's impassioned psychobabble. She was internally rehearsing her request. She only opened her mouth to defend her husband, patiently awaiting the moment when the attention would be on her and the reason they had come in the first place.

Severus's eyes had turned on her, unsettling and beady. "Now… you came to ask me for help, Narcissa?"

Narcissa had no way of knowing that Snape would not tattle tale to the Dark Lord about her request. She could not be sure of anything except for her desperate need for assistance. Any price would be paid for Draco's safety. She closed her eyes and sought strength. Tears fell as she propositioned the slippery Potions Master. She could not keep herself from falling all over him; Snape was always somewhat receptive to the flattery of crying women. Finding herself on knees in a state of sobbing desperation, she had thought all hope for aid was lost. In comfort, Snape had lifted her back to the couch. He made the mistake of thinking some wine could calm a frantic mother. It could not have escaped that Potter wench that the leech has not one paternal bone in his body, she thought vindictively.

"It might be possible… for me to help Draco."

Narcissa jumped up. "Severus – oh, Severus – you would help him? Would you look after him, see he comes to no harm?"

"I can try."

When the fiery bonds were made, she had felt hope fill her chest. The same sensation was upon her now. After all, Snape had kept his promise to her, slippery git that he was. Harry Potter would not lie. Her son was alive. Snapped back to reality by the gripping hug of her husband, Narcissa forced a celebratory smile. Lucius had no way of knowing what she had done. Would he be glad? Or would he be repulsed that she would assist Undesirable No. 1? She shook all such toil from her mind and watched the effects of her deception unfold. The half-giant imbecile was made to carry the boy in a victorious procession to the castle. Narcissa nervously watched Potter. Only she noticed the imperceptible twitch of his otherwise limp form. The Death Eaters were the picture of smug pride. It was almost humorous that Voldemort was so confident in her dedication to him. He did not look closely at the boy, not even to revel in his final victory.

The crowd of Hogwarts rebels cried out their distress. Most of the Death Eaters were finding humor in their weeping, but Narcissa narrowed her eyes and scanned the mass of witches and wizards for a blonde head. Draco was nowhere to be seen. She felts her lips curl with hate. Had Potter lied? The golden boy would never dare – she was sure of it. Draco had saved his life. She knew her son knew it was Potter. After it had happened, he would not even look at his father. Lucius and Bellatrix were thick-headed, but Narcissa knew the meaning of any action Draco could produce. Draco had saved him. Narcissa didn't understand why but Potter knew it as well. No, he would not lie to her about Draco.

All hell broke loose when the giants arrived on the scene and the Longbottom boy killed the snake. Perhaps the Sorting Hat should be more egalitarian with its handouts, Narcissa thought shrewdly to herself. It dawned on her that no one was watching her in the crossfire. She had no reason to fight; Draco had her wand. Walking at first, she searched the hordes. Soon she was running in any direction, shoving Death Eaters and rebels alike. She felt a strange apathy when she heard Bellatrix's dying screams. Once again, she could not find it in herself to blame the blood-traitor for protecting Potter's girlfriend. Finally overcome with desperation, she began to sprint towards the castle, shrieking, "Draco! DRACO!"

She found him hiding in an alcove that mostly blasted apart. His face was blackened and his hands were burned. He clutched her wand in his shaking hand but for the most part was whole and alive. For a split second she saw a little boy. Draco had been such an emotionally fragile child and yet there he stood, straight backed and eyes unblinking. He was half man and half child.

"I'm not a coward," He started to defend himself for hiding. He seemed to think that her strict code of conduct counted in a moment of such distress. She simply took him into her arms, shaking with tears. She shook her head at him, unable to speak. They embraced in silence.

Finally she conjured her voice. "I am proud of you."

"Harry Potter saved my life," he whispered to her. "You can't tell Father, but I.."

"You have no debt to repay in that respect," she told him. "I saved the boy's life just now. But you can't tell Father that either."


End file.
